You Belong to Me
by Ahuri
Summary: "Fly the ocean in a silver plane, see the jungle when it's wet with rain, just remember til you're home again - you belong to me."


Title: You Belong to Me  
  
Author: Ahuri  
  
E-mail: ahuri_enfant@hotmail.com  
  
Feedback: Yes, yes, yes!!  
  
Distribution: Certainly, please just e-mail me first!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything! The characters, the show, the song, nuthin'.  
  
Summary: "Fly the ocean in a silver plane, see the jungle when it's wet with rain, just remember till you're home again - you belong to me."  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Classification: Angst  
  
  
  
A/N: The song is by Jason Wade and is called, of course, "You Belong to Me." Good song – nice and bittersweet. : ) Thanks so much to Emily for being an awesome beta!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 -You Belong to Me-  
  
  
  
//And I'll be so alone without you  
  
Maybe you'll be lonesome too  
  
  
  
Fly the ocean in a silver plane  
  
See the jungle when it's wet with rain  
  
Just remember till you're home again  
  
You belong to me//  
  
  
  
She rests her head wearily against the thick, water-stained window, slumped back in the  
  
narrow seat. As she looks out at the clouds drifting idly by, the gossamer white puffs  
  
trigger something deep in her mind, retrieving memories of a time when she was  
  
innocent. She remembers that she used to love plane rides, always sitting with her nose  
  
glued to the window the entire trip. She had been a firm believer in the fact that angels  
  
lived in clouds, and she was convinced that one day, if she looked hard enough, she  
  
would see one. Her mother had told her that angels lived in clouds, and back then, her  
  
mother was always right. She doesn't believe in angels anymore, because she no longer  
  
believes in her mother. The only angel she'd ever known fell a few days ago, and he had  
  
never lived in a cloud.  
  
  
  
She draws back from the window and the clouds and, sighing, rotates her head to relieve  
  
kinks from Taipei that have yet to be worked out. The past few days are still a blur to  
  
her and all she has processed so far is that they let her go. She can't concentrate; past,  
  
present, future, all of it is too much for her to handle right now. The dull, steady ache  
  
inside of her is a constant reminder of what she doesn't want to be reminded of.  
  
  
  
The vent above her maintains an annoying stream of manufactured air, and she  
  
reaches up to turn it off. The man sitting next to her turns at her movement and smiles,  
  
greeting her with an obvious desire to talk. She nods curtly and turns away, effectively  
  
ending the conversation before it can begin. But she can't win; now she finds herself once  
  
more confronted with the window, and through it the domain of the seraphs.  
  
  
  
Looking down, again, at the soft wispy clouds, she can't help but wonder if he is there,  
  
mingling with the gods. She knows he deserves to be. She also knows that whether or not  
  
you deserve something it sure as hell doesn't determine whether or not you get it. She's  
  
learned that one the hard way.  
  
  
  
Abruptly, she feels a tear begin to form in her right eye. It surprises her, because she  
  
thought that she left her tears behind in Taipei. She knows that she left her heart  
  
there. The ironic thing is that she hadn't even realized her heart belonged to the man who  
  
kept it – until he was gone. She hadn't realized that the man who died for her utterly and  
  
completely owned her, heart and soul.  
  
  
  
The tear is more persistent now, and she realizes that it is not going to go away. She  
  
shifts her hand to her face and casually, subtly, wipes the offending drop away. She  
  
doesn't want the man next to her to think she's crazy or worse yet, offer her pity. But it  
  
is in vain; the tears continue to fall silently, dropping faster and faster, and she is  
  
powerless to stop them. She turns completely towards the window in a futile attempt to  
  
shield herself from being seen, shield herself from the pain, from the memories…but  
  
they're rushing at her now, swirling and diving at a frightening speed like the water that  
  
took him and she can't control herself and everything's going black and –  
  
  
  
She takes a deep, shuddering gasp of breath and clutches the armrests so tightly her  
  
knuckles turn white. The man turns at the sound and notices her tears. He asks her  
  
if she is okay, and though her nod is unconvincing, there is that don't- mess-with-me look  
  
in her dark eyes. Still stinging from her earlier rebuff, he accepts her weak defense  
  
and turns away. She is breathing slowly now, deeply, and she is back in control. Mentally  
  
berating herself for her lapse, she wipes the tears away angrily, harshly, sniffling only  
  
slightly. The man next to her shifts in his seat, obviously uncomfortable, but still  
  
unwilling to do anything. Finally, more for him than for herself, she excuses herself and  
  
escapes to the bathroom.  
  
  
  
It is tight and cramped inside the sterile plastic room, but at least she is alone and hidden  
  
from curious eyes. She turns to the mirror, and though she has prepared herself, she is  
  
still startled by what she sees. A haunted creature, an empty shell of her former self, is  
  
framed by the overly-bright fluorescent lights. Its face is pale and gaunt, and the tear  
  
stains stand out starkly. She averts her eyes and splashes cold water on her face in a vain  
  
attempt to calm the blotches on her cheeks. She rests there for a moment, her hands  
  
bracing her body on the narrow sink and her head hanging low – but she is aware that she  
  
cannot hide in bathrooms forever. At last she forces herself to unlock the door and return  
  
to her seat.  
  
  
  
After an eternity, the plane lands and she disembarks, mechanically following the pattern  
  
her body adjusted to long ago. The drive home is lonely and seems as though it will never  
  
end. When at last it does, she turns the car off and sits in her dark driveway. She  
  
doesn't know if she can go in yet. She is scared that when she crosses that threshold, her  
  
loss will be final. She worries that she will never get over this. Most of all, she is afraid  
  
that the rest of her life will be like this: always being held back by the fears, the  
  
memories, the pain. She is sitting there, contemplating this, when her cell phone rings.  
  
She is tempted to throw it out the window, or at least turn it off, but her sense of duty  
  
rears its ugly head and she answers it reluctantly. A gruff and authoritive voice directs her  
  
to go to the pier, and she acquiesces, without asking who is calling or why. She is too  
  
worn out to refuse. At least now she escapes going inside.  
  
  
  
The pier is bleak and deserted when she arrives, and the lonely street lamps cast an eerie  
  
glow on the foggy boardwalk and the cold steel railing. She can just barely make out the  
  
grey sea churning with foam, and its salty mist lightly douses her as she approaches the  
  
metal balustrade. She tenses as memories immediately crowd her mind, threatening to  
  
overcome her. She can still hear his voice…and she almost loses her composure when  
  
she realizes that she no longer has his number. But she refuses to be broken anymore than  
  
she already is, and she hangs on to the railing in a weak attempt to recover some strength.  
  
She waits a few moments, and then a few more, more out of an inability to leave than a  
  
desire to stay. Finally, though, she can't take it any longer, and she turns to leave. That is  
  
when she sees him.  
  
  
  
He is down the boardwalk a little ways, approaching her slowly, but she would recognize  
  
him anywhere, from any distance. She watches, motionless, as his pace quickens and then  
  
she is running, and he is running, and the world redeems itself once more.  
  
  
  
Suddenly, she believes in angels again.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
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